Adaptable to Time
by playwiththeday
Summary: The Revolutionary war is at a close, and the United States eagerly struggles to become a striving country. Ratonhnhaké:ton's is on a mission to rebuild the Brotherhood, that was hunted to near extinction during the days of his father: Haytham Kenway. Templars are growing in number, and this launches interest in the ancient technology abundant in the new world, and a certain woman.
1. Chapter 1: Pace

***Author note: This is my first Fanfiction, and I feel the need to state: The Assassin Creed universe does not belong to me, and the Character's belong to the Ubisoft developers.**

**I am a fairly new fan to AC, but I try to stay as true to the games as possible within my own piece of fiction. Please let me know if there is anything I could to improve the story such as: typos, historic flaws, etc. I will be posting a new chapters on my break days, most likely late eastern time. Please, enjoy.**

**July 1785, Connor is age 29.**

A calming breeze spiraled up through the brush; it carried the soft beginning scents of Autumn. The sun in the distance, slowly descending behind the tree line. Connor took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and gathered all the sounds around him: the air past his face, rustling brush, and a light trickling from a small creek. The lids of his eyes lifted, and they reviled the beauty before him.

Connor found himself at the edge of a meadow, which displayed every color of orange, and was encapsulated by a dense line of trees. It was at one of these trees Connor chose to rest against. He lightly raised his hand and dragged it across the top of the grass next to him. Out here he was not obligated to think, or worry. He was free for a moment's time. As his gaze fell onto the setting sun, he noticed something that on any other day might have confused or startled him. However, today the sudden emergence of dancing clear-cut symbols against the sky, were, completely normal. The symbols moved as if they belonged to the sea, and were made of a simple series of vertical lines and dots. These were then followed by an instrumental tune, which unlike the symbols, was complex. The tune could be described as enchanting, and it was unlike anything Connor had ever heard.

The symbols floated closer, and he reached out his hand with the unrealistic intention of touching them. Connor gasped, a burst of light came from the object before him, then just like that—they were gone. The music that had followed them faded, leaving only an echo behind.

Connor opened his eyes, he had been in bed, a small glow from the still burning embers illuminated from the fireplace. It was still dark outside, and no birds had yet awoken. He sat up, rubbing his head, "Strange," he whispered to himself, but still thankful it wasn't a dream involving Templars, or individuals meeting their demise. _What was that music?_He tired humming it to himself, remembering it just as of it was playing before him. Satisfied he had not lost the tune, he settled back down and soon fell comfortably asleep.

The sun rise finally reached the window causing a warm feeling to run across Connor's face. This allowed for a pleasant wake-up. He sighed, feeling well rested even with a mid-sleep disturbance. Sitting up, he stretched, and scratched his shoulder. His groggy silent mind started to flood thoughts of tasks he had to complete that morning. First however, he wanted to run, and it would be a good opportunity for his trainees to warm-up before combat theory drills later that morning.

Opening the wardrobe he saw his reflection in a long mirror attached to its door. His face showed a light sheen of sweat from sleep as did his shirtless torso. Connor took a moment to look over the face in front of him. His features did not belong to him; his father stared through the glass before him. Haytham Kenway's last words echoed, leaving him with mixed feelings of guilt, hatred, and above all disappointment. He was still unsure whether his father's sentiment should put him at peace or enrage him. _You were proud of me._His gaze dropped to his well built abdomen, and this brought him out of the depressing mood he had slipped into. Even though he would never openly admire himself; the sight of his form made Connor smirk with pride. He reached out and grabbed a set of assassin robes, shut the door, and begun to suit up.

A knock came from the other side of the room, and without a reply a young woman came into view. Shutting the heavy wooden door behind her. Knowing who it was, Connor groaned with a large amount of annoyance. It annoyed Connor even more that he was still attracted to her. She was young, had high-cheek bones, large green eyes, and lovely blonde curls that never seemed to be out of control. Her body was slender, but her slenderness did not to carry over to her bust or rear.

"Connor?" She asked, this had become an everyday occurrence since the girl had arrived, and it was beginning to get on his nerves. He didn't mind being around people, but his morning routine was now interrupted.

"Ye…," he attempted to reply, but she cut him off.

"I meant to say "mentor", sorry," She rushed to say, tripping over her words.

"Yes Isabel?" He replied in a loud flat tone.

"Is there anything I can do for you this morning?" Connor then noticed that she was not necessarily addressing him, but instead, the shirtless part of him. She corrected her sight with a blush when he begun to address her.

"Go wake the other trainees, we are going for a run."

Her red face got even redder at his stern voice. Isabel hesitated then asked, "Shall I wake the others?"

"No, leave them be." She nodded, knowing their conversation was over. Isabel left the room in disappointment, leaving Connor aware that is was going to be another long day.

_**Later that morning…**_

Rhythmic steps hit the surface of the ground; a low chorus of heavy breathing filled the air. Each mouth casted a small cloud of steam as they exhaled. Their Mentor led the squad-sized formation on a pounded path that wrapped around Devenport's bay. There were early indications that it was going to be a humid day, one of these being an ample amount of fog hovering over the water. The fog only allowed a glimpse of the massive vessel at port, and as the sun rose higher a clearer view of the ship's outline could be seen.

"This way, we've almost reached the end!" Connor turned to jog backwards as he addressed his trainees, also checking to make sure that they had all made it. Togquos, and Daniel were in the middle of their own competition for first place. Michael followed closely behind, however, seemed to be taking his time and hadn't broken a sweat. Eli right beside Michael, and Nathaniel appearing as though he was near death behind them. Edith coached Nathaniel, and Gillian kept the same pace and step behind Edith. With everyone in sight, Connor turned forward again and sped up. However this only lasted for a minute as he realized not everyone was accounted for. Connor immediately slowed his pace in order to speak with Daniel, "End at the cliff, I have to retrieve Isabel." Daniel nodded in understanding, then extended his stride forcing the formation to keep up.

Following the path, Connor swore under his breath. Isabel was making herself out to be more trouble than she was worth. This was the third time she had fallen out of training. Connor was beginning to suspect that she had little desire to become an assassin, and that she might have come to Devenport for the wrong reasons.

"Are you now refusing to train?" he yelled out to her, as Isabel came into Connor's view. She was walking, no, she was shuffling her feet down the path without purpose. Her head daggled towards the ground like a reluctant teenager, and her all over attitude was one of irritation as her eyes met Connor's.

"Why are you so distant?" Isabel replied, throwing her hands up.

This question threw Connor off guard and at first he no idea what she was referring to, "Because you fell out and made no effort to re-join the group. Distance happens when you slow your stride."

Isabel rolled her eyes, now gaining speed as she stepped towards him, "You know that was not what I meant."

A sense of confusion radiated of Connor, his thoughts engrossed in the task at hand. Which was—training.

"How could you bring me here? Perhaps I misread your intentions for me," Isabel blurted.

The great revelation appeared on Connor's face as he silently swallowed. He had hoped that Isabel would look past their history, and integrate into this life style.

"I don't understand the purpose," she raised her arm, pointing at Connor accusingly, "I have played your game, I have called you mentor, and I have tried to keep my distance!" A single tear crept down the side of her face, reflecting the redness it had acquired.

The guilt pierced Connor's heart. He hadn't meant for her to hurt, but on the other hand he had no idea she thought this way. When he had first offered to train her, he was under the impression that he explained the terms completely, "I brought you here because I believed you would become an Assassin, or at least make something of yourself."

She shook her head, "One man, Connor, a moment of strength. How did that qualify me for this? Please, you must see that I am weak, and dull. This isn't what I wanted for my life."

"Why did you agree? You must have known before, when I explained," Connor turned his head in anger, "I told you," saying this more to himself than to Isabel.

"At the time, I thought I could." Isabel stood closer, and reached out her hand to touch his cheek. She pleaded with him, "Please do not make me leave like a thief in the night."

Calming his voice, "I am not going to make you leave."

She smiled softly, her eyes glinting from the remaining tears. Isabel threw herself into an embrace, claiming Connor. He had tolerated the mild touch of his face, but was completely victimized by the hug. His arms laid straight, he did not attempt to remove her. Isabel could feel the moistness of his shirt caused by the run; she reminisced as his sweet scent filled her nostrils. Connor let out an ounce of air, hoping it would soon be over. Again without warning, she made her next move; her lips were now pressed into Connors. He closed his eyes, losing himself for a brief moment. Isabel expected this moment to be one of great passion, like similar moments they had shared before. However, Connor retreated, stepping aside. His arms raised defensively, "No."

Isabel sank into anguish as her eyes welled with tears. Between gasps of air and sobs she managed to articulate a few words, "…what is so different now?"

Connor, his enraged state returning, dared himself not to yell. How could he have allowed this to happen? This situation would only spark trouble within the stronghold. Achilles had entrusted him to rebuild, how could he do this, if he couldn't control one woman? Morale was everything at this point, they were too few in number. _This is all my doing,_"I should have never taken advantage of your situation."

"I didn't see it that way. I thought you wanted me."

"So did that other man. I am no better than he." Regaining his emotions, Connor waved off anything Isabel was going to say, "if you can no longer train, you may have a place in the kitchen. Now, I must go." With that said, he sprinted away to rejoin the group.

Isabel fell to the ground, her heart shattered in defeat. Then as if there was some sort of hope she thought: _he didn't send me away… he still wants me here._ She could feel a smile as her heart felt as if it could be repaired. However, there was something off about this smile, and if witnessed could have sent chills into any individual.


	2. Chapter 2: Change of Contract

**2014**

Limited contact to the outside world, bright florescent surroundings, and low-level office dividers. This new office was meant to be an upgrade for one reason; windows. Whenever comments were made about the new office, higher-ranking supervisors would always comment back with, "but we have windows!" in a cheerful reassuring tone that would be underlined with a small amount of sarcasm. No one liked the windows, and no one liked being moved to the new office.

The old office was located in the basement, which had always been cool and relaxing. Relaxing, because no one was around to dictate what sort of entertainment was allowed during work hours. The old office also had walls, one could actually sit at a desk without looking over their computer screen and locking eyes with another co-worker. This accidental locking eye action had begun to get extremely awkward and would happen consistently in the new office.

Dazing off into the distance the young analyst sat at her workstation motionless. A hand came out of nowhere and waved in front of her face. "Hello? Anyone in there?" said the owner of the hand. The analyst's eyes automatically snapped to the individual speaking. The victim of her glare was one of her supervisors, one she wasn't all that fond of. "Why are you staring off into the distance?"

"Well sir, it's because there are no walls." She replied thinking herself a master of sarcasm.

He took a long breath ending in a sigh, "So if there were, you would be staring into a wall."

"Yes," Seeing she may have wanted to cover her distraction with the excuse that she was in deep thought. She gave him a charming smile, hoping that this would pass as a joke. It didn't.

He started to walk away while saying, "Aria, get back to work."

"Yes, sir," She imagined sticking out her tongue out in retort, but of course being too professional to act on it. _Get back to work? If nothing is broken, then I can't fix it! Oh, the continuing saga of working on a help desk. Fucking operators. _She knew that last thought was hypocritical she was technically an operator herself. But unlike her supervisors she had tech education, and knew how to translate information between the two. In a few clicks she opened a word document, and started to arbitrarily type. Perhaps she would now be seen as a dedicated employee, instead of a lazy contractor. That particular stigma followed just about every contractor, and she hated it. Even though she hated it, she was aware that every stigma had some truth to it. It made her think back to her days in the Army. Her and her fellow soldiers would always poke fun at the government contractors, and would constantly complain about how she did all the work. _Ha! Never knew I would end up here so fast. _

She separated from the Army about a year ago. She missed being Specialist Gonzales, better known as SPC Gonzo. The army was the first real family that she had known. However, the temptation of making more money in the civilian world made her decline the opportunity to "re-up". Aria's thoughts were still conflicted. A small part of her heart remained in the army, and when she separated there was a hole left behind. She let out a silent sigh as some of the green suits (army folk) passed, joking with each other in a familiar sibling like manner. Aria missed that. Her and her gang would torment sergeants, hide from officers, and were experts in their job field. In those days she felt invincible.

A blinking icon interrupted her tangent thoughts, and the pointless typing. The bright red icon indicated a faulty router. She double clicked it, and found that the ping had been blocked. The goal of her position was so to prevent anything like this from happening, but she could help feeling slightly thankful for something to do. After the blocked ping was discovered, Aria, then attempted a remote log-in. As a result: "CONECTION TO Server1… STATUS: FAILED". Only once before had she run into trouble connecting to the Server remotely, which indicated that there could be a power issue on the circuit. Readjusting her ¾ length sweater, locking the screen, then snatching up the server room's key. Aria made her way out of the office walking with a purpose to her step. This type of step always seemed the spark the interest of fellow co-workers, and as she left an operator, Cliff Michaels interjected, " Hey Aria! I can't access the share folder."

"That's nice, I'm sure everyone is having the same problem. The server is down."

"Oh," he was silent for a second then yelled after her, "are you going to fix it?"

She lifted her hand in annoyance, "What do you think I'm doing?!" she stated loudly before shutting the office door. Cliff turned red in embarrassment, he always liked her. However, he never understood why she was so mean to him.

A light echo bounced off the walls as Aria's knee-high boots met the new surface of the hallway. The hall was long, and the end was a very distant door leading to a section in which she had never been. Much of the building was like this: if one did not have a need to be in a particular area, than one might never see the entire architecture. Luckily for Aria, the walk to the server room was a short one, and she often referred to it as her _quiet place._ That is if she did not turn on her favorite public radio station. Today was one of those days, she needed the complex melodies. Classical music al had a great affect on her immense rage for social interaction. However, social situations only bothered her in large groups, and was the reason she often had anxiety when she was enlisted.

Aria tugged open the heavy door of the server room, cool air flew at her face, and she stepped up to the main floor on which the server racks were held. She noticed the back-up lights were powered up but nothing else. _There goes my radio time._ Fearing the worse, she opened the metal screen door to the server's rack. Just as Aria feared, the UPS failed, the emergency power did not kick in. _What the fuck? How does the rest of the building have power, but not our server room? _A larger light emerged from the main door.

"Gonzo!" a familiar voice reached her ears, "What happened here? I guess this is what goes on when I leave. You could never be trusted in a server room."

"Tai, go back your office. I really don't need this right now," any other day Aria would have been happy to see her longest standing friend, just not today. She didn't know what was going on, and he was already starting to blame things on her.

"I actually came up here to see if your server room had the same problem mine does. Seeing that my speculations were right, I'll be going…" he mockingly turned around about to exit.

"Hold on, forgive me, it's just … I don't know what the problem is. So this is happening to yours as well?"

"Yep, but you already knew because you're…"

"I'm not a witch!" Tai laughed at her retort. Ever since they had been assigned to the same mission in the army it had been a running joke that she was a witch. The only reason was because Aria was the only female soldier on the mission, and it had stayed like that for two years until another female arrived. Back then she would find salt in her hair from the team testing the witch theory.

Tai began a more serious tone as he spoke, fearing that they might actually have to get back to work, "I called the engineer shop, and they said they knew nothing of the outage. I was then referred to the outage team, they weren't aware at first, but then the supervisor got on the line. She told me that there was a scheduled outage, but the outage team was instructed not to inform the System Admins until the event."

"What? That doesn't make any sense. Why would they wait? Unless they didn't want any negative feedback until it was over," Aria's eyes at this point were more focused on the lifeless rack before her, than they were on Tai. Her thoughts wondered to how idiotic this whole ordeal was, and now she would have to perform a full back up on all the devices under her care.

"I think you answered your own question," he let out a small chuckle.

The server room's door swung open once more. A larger sized man stepped into the room. He wore a dark colored suit; it seemed to be expensive and well tailored. The man adjusted his glasses. As he did Aria noticed he had very unique cuff links. They were shaped like a cross, but were squared unlike traditional crosses from most religious organizations. The cuff-links glimmered in the now dim light showing off a tint of crimson. She thought them odd, and didn't seem to fit this professional. He then spoke, "I am looking for a skilled system administrator, and was referred to a Tai Ford," he was staring at Tai, "do you know of him?"

"Yes sir, that's me." Tai answered sounding more confused than Aria felt. Aria thought _No security protocol? I guess anyone can waltz into my server room nowadays…_

"My name is Brian Lee, and I require some assistance…"

Tai cut him off mid sentence, "Sir I'm afraid I can't help you. It's not in my contract to do free-lace work, and I don't recognize you."

Annoyed with the technician Mr. Lee continued, "I wasn't going to ask you if you could," Aria was shocked _Who the hell does this guy think he is? We don't do anything for anyone, unless we know who they are! _Aria was about to speak her mind when Tai saw her frustration and silently told her off with a look. Mr. Lee sighed, then reached into his jacket, "I really don't have all day for this, here," He handed Tai a paper, "this should explain your new assignment."

"I haven't agreed to this," Tai stated still taking the paper in curiosity.

"We didn't need you to, and with that said I hope you will stop arguing with me. Now, you might help me find some else I require, an Aria Gonzales?"

Aria groaned inside her mind, why did this man have to be looking for her too? She replied in a flat tone, "I am an Aria Gonzales…"

"Oh?" Mr. Lee then spoke to Tai, smirking, "I thought she was a floozy you brought to this broom closet for a little afternoon delight," He then let out a laugh, "follow me, both of you."


	3. Chapter 3: Parcel

**July 1785**

Chapter 3:

From a distance, one individual had witnessed Isabel's discomforting expression and the events that led up to it. Nathaniel remained concealed out of sight; questions appearing in every direction of his mind. He had no intentions of spying on his mentor—he only wanted to encourage Isabel to rejoin the run. These were instructions given by Daniel, since Nathaniel nearly fell out due to his injury. But, when he reached the area, he decided not to interfere and crouched down into the shrubs. The conversation, or argument sounded very personal, and one of Nathaniel's flaws was… curiosity.

His eyes widen when he saw the embrace. But, this was nothing compared to his reaction when the two kissed before him. _Was that wanted, or unwanted? I couldn't really tell… Oh, clearly unwanted, _he thought then continued to observe. _He's allowing her to stay?! She better know how to cook. I don't think anyone is going to happy with a freeloading-whore flitting about._

Nathaniel was about to creep back onto the path, when an arm clothes-lined him to the ground. "Aahck!" the wind knocked out of him, he wheezed for air.

"How much of that did you hear?" Connor glared straight through Nathaniel.

"All of it. I think," a wheezy voice returned, not sounding at all like Nathaniel, "Would you mind letting me go, and not using the 'dark murder' voice on me. It's alarming." Nathaniel's face was beginning to turn red.

Connor rolled off of Nathaniel, and into a sitting position. Nathaniel inhaled like it was his life-saving breath. "You're a heavy one," He exclaimed in his light Spanish accent, "If you don't mind me asking, why _did_ you let _her_ stay?"

"First, why were you eavesdropping?" Connor asked in return, raising an eye brow. He couldn't necessary get upset at this point. With Isabel being reassigned to the kitchen, and the way she acted around him. It would be idiotic to think that no one would eventually ask questions.

With a sigh, Nathaniel glared at his foot; loathing it, "My injury. I'm recovering, but it seems to be going slower than I'd like. Daniel told me to come find you, and possibly help with the Isabel issue… but when I saw," he grunted, indicating something, "I heard, quite clearly—it was personal. I didn't want to interrupt, and I didn't want to embarrass—"

"I am embarrassed." Connor's voice was unlined with defeat. They both sat in a prolonged silence, Nathaniel not knowing how to address Connor after revealing his weaken state. Connor then spoke up, understanding he might have made Nathaniel feel uncomfortable, "How is the foot?"

"We haven't been talking." Connor let out a laugh, finally relieving the severity that surrounded them, "Connor, you don't need to be embarrassed. We've all suffered at the hands of a woman, one time or another… well that is if ya don't gallop on the other side of the fence." Nathaniel stood up, "So, why did you let her stay?"

"She has nowhere to go. She lost the liberty of returning home before I brought her here." Connor got to his feet, "Come, we should rejoin the others. I know you have more questions, and I will answer them, but for the time being I need you to remain silent."

In a serious tone and a nod, Nathaniel replied, "I understand," _I may have judged too quickly._

_**At the cliff…**_

A wall of stone faced the group. At the top foliage hung over the edge and a single rope dangled 65 feet down to ground. The rope appeared as though it were invisible the higher a person gazed. Along each side of the rope were running cracks, ledges, and holes that could be used as hand-holds. At the bottom of the cliff a dark-skinned woman paced back and forth in front of the group. She spoke as she did so. Her voice was exotic, "it is my understanding, that none of you have faced the cliff."

"She scares me," Edith whispered out the side of her mouth.

"Me too," Connor replied, catching Edith off guard. He towered behind the short woman, overlooking the apprentices.

The instructor then spotted Connor, "joining us just now, Connor. I hope you don't mind, I found them leaderless," she smiled jokingly, "where were you?"

"I had to send _someone_ back to the manor, they weren't feeling well," Connor replied serenely.

The exotic voiced woman scanned the group, "ah, the stupid gold-headed one," This comment made a couple of the on-lookers snort, as they tried to contain their laughter. "That was not a joke," her voice turned deep, and the muffled sounds immediately stopped.

"Patience, are you going to explain what they must do here?" This was Connor's way to guide the instruction towards a different topic; such as the one they were all here for.

Patience cleared her throat, understanding what Connor meant more from his eyes than his words. "Your goal today is to reach the top."

Togquos smirked, "easy enough, there's a rope."

"I did I say you could use the rope?" Togquos' smirk faded. Patience then continued, "No I did not. You will scale this rock without the rope, but since Connor and I are not interested in seeing any of you fall to your death… there is a life-line. If you suspect you are going to _fail_, grab the rope. Once you do, you will have to restart from the bottom." She held up one finger, "remember, the more you attempt the climb, the harder it will become. If you cannot reach the rope, try to aim for a ledge, or this stack of hay." She kicked the hay then peered around, "any questions?"

It was confirmed that there were no questions, but the eyes in the group said otherwise. "Togquos, you're eager. You should go first," said Connor, remembering a similar trial like this when he was under Achillies' guidance.

Togquos was a native like Connor, but stood about two inches shorter and was leaner. As he approached the wall his chest puffed out a little, and he felt the pressure of being first in line. He coached himself, _be true to your words, you have climbed higher than this… _His head tilted up when he placed his hands on the wall, _I lied, I have never done something like this._ No one made a sound, as he started to climb. Togquos started within a crack, and found it easier than he expected. The crack was the perfect size to fit his arm, while it still provided a small enough space to hold his feet. This part of the climb went by quickly, and he reached the first ledge without faltering. However, it was at this ledge he remained.

"There's no way up from here!" He shouted down.

Connor cupped his hands in order to amplify the sound, "You're not looking hard enough, have you tried your talent?"

Togquos ignored Connor out of pride, for he had difficulty enacting his eagle vision. He could do it, but had only been successful while in solitary. He sat cross-legged on the ledge, and closed his eyes. _There is far more wind up here, than there was below, _he thought while trying to distract himself from the failure he was currently experiencing.

Edith Bright watched nervously from the bottom of the cliff; her dark eyes were opened wide, and her mouth lay partly open. She was well aware of her friend's weakness, and had helped him through focusing in on his vision. Out of fear that he would be stuck there all day—she ran towards the wall almost knocking Gillian over in doing so.

Gillian shouted out her retort, "Edith!" however it didn't sound serious coming from miss Gillian Helms, as she was soft spoken, and sometimes meek in nature.

Edith latched onto the wall, and attempted the climb up the same way Togquos had. She found that the crack was too large for her use, and switched smaller hand holds beside the crack. She reached Togquos in record time, then passed him climbing further. Edith knew that if she found a way up, it would help him and perhaps influence him not to be beaten by a girl.

"Connor!" A voice laced with a French accent shouted from the distance. Connor turned from his trainees, to see Stephane Chapheau running towards him. When he finally reached the area, out of breath, he took a minute to explain the pressing issue. "A…." panting, and then swallowing, "parcel has arrived for you."

"Thank you, Stephane, I will open it after we have finished here. How has your morning been?" Connor placed his hand on his back in a familiar manner.

Stephane did not smile at Connor's greeting but instead stepped away from him, "No, you need to address this now."

"What is so urgent? Who is it from" Connor begun to walk towards the manor while signaling Patience to continue the exercise.

Stephane answered in a low voice, "it's from your father."


End file.
